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"Thank you, babe."
Honey strolls over to the fridge, hips swaying in a way suggesting she was or is a model—or she would like to be one. She pulls out a bottle of water, and delicately places her mouth round to drink.
"So… you’re his summer Sky?" Is she mocking me? The saccharin sweetness in her tone has gone.
"I’m Sky, yes."
"You did the right thing, babe," she says. "You’re not his type. He’d get bored. Save yourself heartbreak because Dylan isn’t very… accessible."
My scalp prickles at this stranger telling me what I should or shouldn’t do. Is there jealousy from her here? No, she’s engaged to someone else.
I keep my game face. "Yeah, I figured that might happen."
Honey sashays towards me, stopping close enough that I gag on her heavy perfume. "Still, make the most of your stay here. I doubt you’ll experience anything like this again."
Her words irk. No, they piss me off. She's suggesting I’m not worth this luxury and somehow below her—someone like me isn't worth Dylan. Whatever the reasoning is behind her bitchy comments, the words have my back up enough to step into Dylan's life a little. A two fingered salute to Honey. Just for a day or two. No more. Honest.
